


Sell My Soul

by Fire_Bear



Series: Hang Cool Teddy Bear [9]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Death, Drama, Gen, Likely other things but I can't think of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred has died but a distraught Arthur refuses to give up on him - especially in a world where the supernatural can be found anywhere...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sell My Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This is another one based on I'd Lie For You (And That's the Truth).
> 
> It's also a prequel to I'll Be Gone When Morning Comes from earlier in this collection. 
> 
> WARNING: for character death(ish) (which is why there's a warning on it - not sure if I really need it but, eh) and demons. Possible spoilers for Supernatural in the ending Author's Note if you haven't watched the first five seasons.

“Alfred!” cried Arthur, hurrying to his side and quickly unstrapping him from the table. “God, Alfred, don't you do this!”

All Alfred could respond with was a gurgle; they must have severed his vocal cords. The American didn't seem to be able to move and Arthur bit back a sob. His neck was covered with red, his life's blood leaving him much quicker than Arthur had expected. It stained his shirt and poured onto the table he had been secured to, dripping down the sides and staining the carpet.

Finished with the straps, Arthur returned to Alfred's side and stared at him, his mind blank as he tried to think of what he should be doing. Feeling a tug on his sleeve, he looked down to see that Alfred had the cuff between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled it again and Arthur looked into Alfred's eyes, past the blood-spattered lenses of his glasses and into the sparkling blue.

More gurgling alarmed him and Arthur shook his head. “No. Don't talk. I- Damn.” Quickly, he began to try to remove his jacket – but a firm tug stopped him. Looking down, he saw Alfred's mouth moving and, frowning, he stared at it and watched him mouth out a short phrase as he struggled to breathe.

_Love you._

With that, the hand gripping Arthur's sleeve fell and Alfred's eyes gazed blankly at the ceiling.

“ _No!_ ” screamed Arthur. He grabbed Alfred's shoulders and shook him. Nothing happened, no movement bar Alfred's lolling head. “No, don't you dare! Don't you tell me that and- Fuck! No, no, no!” Breathing hard, Arthur tried to stop panicking and think of a way to stop this happening. His thoughts turned to Yao and all of his knowledge. “That's... Yeah. Listen, Alfred, I'm taking you to Yao. I'm saving you, no matter what I have to do. You don't deserve to die like this.”

So Arthur scooped Alfred up, his limbs hanging limply. The taller man was heavy but Arthur didn't give a damn. He'd be able to carry him miles if it meant he could save him.

Thankfully, he had parked right outside and had left the front door open. With some careful manoeuvring, Arthur propped Alfred up on the front passenger seat. Then he got in the car himself and sped off into the night.

* * *

 

“Do you have _any_ idea-?!” Yao snapped as he opened his door but he stopped speaking as soon as he saw the distraught and panicked Arthur. Alfred was cradled to his chest and he looked pleadingly up at Yao.

“Please. Please, God, do _something_ ,” Arthur breathed, exhausted from the fight, the drive and the emotional turmoil. “Don't let him die.”

Yao moved out of the way, frowning, and let Arthur place Alfred gently on his couch. “Arthur...” he began, slowly.

“There's got to be something to reverse this. To stop it. _Do something_!” Arthur glowered at Yao, daring him to oppose him.

And Yao rose to the challenge, shaking his head. “Arthur. He's _dead_. There's nothing I can do. Not even any of my spells will save him.”

“No! It's- He can't be-” A sob escaped him and Arthur slapped a hand over his mouth, appalled that he had let that noise come from him. Tears trickled over his hand. He looked away from Yao, not wanting him to see.

“Arthur...” said Yao after a moment. “I... I was going to go shopping today so... I'll go get some things for a Hunter's funeral. That way you can...” Yao hesitated for a moment. “You can say goodbye.”

He didn't respond but he heard Yao leave the room and, a few minutes later, the front door opened and closed. Once he was completely alone, Arthur dropped to his knees beside Alfred's body and began to cry in earnest. He had been so sure that Yao could have done something. The Chinaman had dozens of books dedicated to Hunting and rituals: surely there should have been _something_ someone could have done? Though, deep down, he had known there was nothing humanly possible to be done.

Gasping as an idea occurred to him, Arthur raised his head, eyes wide. A few seconds of debate had him standing, rubbing the tears from his eyes. He wouldn't allow the idiot to die, not after everything they had been through.

* * *

 

With the car parked at the side of the quiet road, Arthur took out the small trowel and the tin with the appropriate items inside. He walked to the centre of the crossroads and, after making sure no-one could be seen for miles, he crouched down and began to dig. When the hole was big enough, he thrust the tin in and covered it over, patting the dirt down firmly. Then he stood and waited.

It soon seemed to him that he was waiting for too long, though. Nothing was happening. No-one could be seen. He shifted on his feet, growing angrier by the moment. Where the hell was this thing?

“Well, now, look at that. It's Sourcils,” said a horribly familiar French voice. Arthur shivered involuntarily and turned.

There was a man leaning on his car, arms folded. He wore stylish – and likely expensive – clothes just as he had the last time they had met. His blond hair was tied back today with a red ribbon to match his shirt – and his eyes. At least they did until he blinked and they returned to the blue irises of his vessel.

“Francis,” growled Arthur. “What are you doing here? I didn't want _you_.”

“Unfortunately for you, I'm the only one willing to take this call. We all know what you want. But the last time a demon did this for someone – well, it didn't turn out as we hoped it would in the long run.” Francis clicked his tongue and pushed himself off of the car with his hips. “Why should I help you?”

Arthur gritted his teeth. He didn't have an answer for that. Except... “Revenge? Besides, I can always summon you into a Devil's Trap and leave you in it.”

The demon scoffed at that but began to make his way to the hunter who hadn't moved from the middle of the road. “I could easily escape the trap. But... revenge. Now _that_ I can get behind.”

“Hm,” said Arthur, still glowering at Francis.

“And, I suppose, I do like the romance of all this.” Arthur tensed at that, staring up at the demon who blinked, letting his eyes turn red again. He grinned down at the shorter man. “Oh? Did you think that was a secret? I could tell the boy's love for you from the moment I laid eyes on him. And you _know_ about it. Yet you do nothing. Why is that?”

His constant turmoil about that situation returned and Arthur tried to quash it. He couldn't let Francis toy with him. And, if he didn't hurry, Yao would go ahead with the Hunter's funeral. “It's none of your damned business.”

“Anything damned is my business, cher,” Francis responded cheerfully, blinking and returning his eyes to their normal colour. They were harder and colder than Alfred's – when he had been alive. Arthur had to mentally shake himself to stop himself from thinking like that. He wasn't gone yet.

“Look, just make a decision and get this over with.”

Chortling, Francis reached out a hand to trace a finger over Arthur's cheek. Arthur jerked out of reach, his eyes narrowed. “Well, your love for each other is tragic. Will he be angry with you when he finds out?” Francis paused and, when Arthur didn't answer, grabbed the hunter's chin. “Answer me. Will he be angry?”

Looking straight into those horrible eyes, Arthur did as he was told. “Yes,” he whispered, knowing full well that Alfred would be furious. Arthur had once made him promise not to do exactly this and, if he ever found out about Arthur's hypocrisy...

Cruelly, Francis laughed in Arthur's face. “That's all I needed to know. Now, I will give you one year-”

“One!” cried Arthur, struggling against the demon's grip in an attempt to get away. “It's usually ten!”

Francis's grin widened. “Revenge is sweet,” he declared before forcibly pressing his lips against Arthur's. Rigid, Arthur could do nothing but let the demon kiss him, force his lips open, plunge his tongue into his mouth – and seal the unfair deal. Then, abruptly, he was released and he stumbled back, grimacing at the taste of wine. “It is done,” Francis said.

And, when Arthur blinked, the demon was gone.

* * *

 

Arthur rolled to a stop in front of Yao's lone house, pulled on the handbrake and left the car idling for a moment. There was another car in front of the wooden building – Yao's car. He had returned, apparently. Which would mean that there was a possibility that Alfred was awake and already somewhat aware of what Arthur had done.

Sighing, he turned off the engine and climbed out of the car. With a sense of dread, Arthur made his way to the front door and lifted his fist to knock.

However, before he could, it was flung open, banging into the wall to Yao's distant protests. There, standing in Arthur's way was Alfred. Quickly, he looked him over. The wound to his neck had healed. His eyes shone again instead of the glazed staring from before. Now, they burned with anger.

“What the _hell_ did you do, Arthur?!” he snapped, scowling.

A small smile flickered onto Arthur's face. “'What the hell', indeed,” he said, quietly, before he pulled Alfred into a hug. Alfred tensed in his arms: Arthur had never willingly hugged him before. Eventually, though, the American relaxed into it, hugging Arthur tightly.

The older hunter didn't mind. He was too busy wondering whether it was a good idea to tell Alfred how long he had to live.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I decided it would be the first time he met Francis. Then I changed my mind and decided Francis had a grudge against them because they somehow foiled one of his deals. That's gonna be a pain to work out what they did. (The thing about someone doing it before is a reference to Sam and Dean Winchester - and the fact the apocalypse didn't happen.)
> 
> In Bat Out of Hell, I only said Alfred had told Arthur he loved him once while he was 'sleeping' - but I'll have to rewrite it when I get around to making this into a multi-chapter fic because I suddenly decided Alfred would get the chance to mouth something at Arthur.
> 
> I figured that Yao would know ancient rituals from China - which is what I mean be Chinese spells.


End file.
